Nations, Heroes, and Idiots
by Tanya Tsuki
Summary: A collection of drabbles. Drabble #41: America and England lay on a couch and discuss cold feet. Literally.
1. Heroes Start Young

_(I've realized that I write a lot of drabbles, and I feel like I'm spamming by giving each drabble its own story, so I've decided to take a leaf out of the book of many fellow writers, and dedicate this one entry to drabbles. The first one stars England and colonial!America. Tomorrow I'll upload an America and Canada one and we'll see where it goes from there._

_I do not own Hetalia. It is not mine. This disclaimer applies to all of the drabbles that will be posted)_

"It's time for bed, America," England said, shooing the young colony into his room.

"But I'm not tired," America whined, reluctantly getting into bed. "Can you tell me a story?"

"No."

"Pwease?"

England sighed. Those puppy dog eyes should be forbidden in the house. "Fine. Once upon a time," he deadpanned.

"England! Be serious!"

"I am being serious, America," the older Nation said, holding back a smile.

"Ugh. You know what I mean."

"If you say so," England lost the fight with the smile. "Once upon a time," he started again, this time in a gentle tone that was more acceptable to America. "There was a princess. She was loved by all except for this one French frog of a witch. She cursed the princess, and only a true hero could save her…"

For the next hour, England regaled America with tales upon tales of a daring hero, his damsel in distress, and the many adventures the duo went on. Finally, to England's relief, the colony's eyes started falling close, and England saw fit to end his tale. "And they lived happily ever after. Good night, America," he said quietly, leaning over to give America a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Hey, England," America said drowsily. "I know what I want to be when I grow up."

England paused in lifting the covers over America. "Oh? And what do you want to be?"

"A hero. So I can save damsels in distress and protect people…especially you...." His voice trailed off as he entered the land of dreams.

England, feeling oddly touched, tucked America in, and gently brushed hair out of the boy's face. "Heroes start young," he said softly, almost sadly, before leaving the room. "Sweet dreams."


	2. Hey Hey Canada

America looked up in confusion when he felt the weight on the other side of the bed disappear. Sitting up and blinking blearily in the direction of the blurry shape that was his brother, he asked, "Where are you going, Canada?"

Canada raised an eyebrow as he looked back at America. "To the bathroom to take a shower. Does it really matter?"

America slunk off the bed and moved over to Canada, throwing his arms over the other Nation's shoulders. "I think it does," he said quietly into the other's ear. "Be careful not to drop the soap~"

"Argh, America! Stop acting like France!" Canada snapped, throwing his brother's arms off his shoulders and stomping off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Frowning, America gave a shrug before deciding to head to the kitchen. The morning doesn't start until after the second cup of coffee, after all.


	3. Cowlick'd

The two North American brothers were walking back to their hotel after a meeting. America was going on and on about one a plan he had shared at the meeting, one of his many hamburgers being waved about for emphasis, while Canada nodded absently, paying more attention to their surrounding environment than his brother.

"Oh, look," Canada said suddenly, causing America to fall quiet for once. "Cows."

And quiet, America was. He tensed, slowly looking in the direction Canada had indicated, a memory of a day long past coming to mind.

_It was another sunny day, and a young America was exploring his land when he came upon a cow. _

_"Hi!" He called out to it, and the cow actually lifted her head._

"How are you?" America asked her cheerfully. The cow gave him an unimpressed look.

"Aw, are you not doing very well? I'm sorry," America said softly, walking over to pet the cow. The cow tilted her head slightly before dropping it and licking the young Nation on the head.

To this day, America had been unable to get the cowlick to go away, and he might-secretly-be-a-little-terrified-of cows.

"That's nice, Canada," America said quickly, taking a vehement bite out of his hamburger as revenge. "Let's go." Not giving his brother a chance to lag behind, America grabbed his arm and began a brisk walk, not a run, back to the hotel.


	4. Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

France had just gotten to his knees and pulled out a diamond ring when Romano spoke, cutting off the self-proclaimed Nation of love.

"What the hell is that?"

The kneeling Nation looked briefly taken aback but quickly schooled his face into a smile.

"It's a diamond ring _pour toi._ Romano, will you marry me?"

Rolling his eyes, Romano resisted the urge to punch the other Nation.

"Why?"

"Diamonds are forever. And marriage is for forever, so a diamond ring is the perfect ring to propose with," France told him, not moving from his position in the slightest.

Romano gave in to the urge to punch France.

"No, you bastard. I meant why do you want to marry me. Did England say no, again? You know what? Forget it!" He shouted, storming off, leaving a bleeding France behind.

"Romano! Wait!" France called, trying, and failing, to pick himself off the floor.

"Go die in a ditch, bastard!"

"Romano..." France trailed off, watching as the curl disappeared around a corner, taking the angry Italian out of his life forever (well, not as forever as a diamond. They'd probably end up seeing each other at the G8 meeting next week, actually).

"Wow, France. What is that, your sixth rejection today? Did you really think anyone would agree to marry you?" Prussia laughed, popping out of the bushes.

Suddenly clean and fresh as a daisy, France jumped up, turning to his friend. "Prussia!"

Prussia, sensing that France wasn't going to give up at six marriage proposals, laughed before fleeing. Diamonds are forever...and who wants to be stuck with someone forever?


	5. Flying Cats

"Hello?"

"Hello, um, Matthew?"

"Hello?"

"Hello? Matthew?"

"Are you there?"

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Ah. Katerina? Hello?"

"Hello. Are you there?"

"Yeah, I think so. Sorry…I'm not in the best service area right now. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you. Ah, the plane is about to load. I just wanted to let you know that my flight was delayed. I'll be getting there at least an hour later than scheduled."

"Oh, ok. Thank you. I'll see you at the airport about 7 then?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Good-bye, Katerina."

"Good-bye Matthew. Thank you for the invite, again!"

"It's not a big deal. I'm glad you're coming. I'll talk to you later."

_Click._

_______

"Thank you for picking me up at the airport, Matthew. I really wasn't expecting you to."

"It's no problem, Katerina."

"And I'm sorry for the plane being late. It was only an hour long delay. It was not supposed to be longer than that."

"It's fine Katerina."

"But—"

"Katerina, it's fine. Here, let me take that bag from you, please."

_______

"Wow, Matthew, your home is lovely."

"Ah, thank you."

"No, really, it is. And—what's that sound?"

"What sound?"

"…"

"…"

"_Meow_."

"That sound. Did you hear it that time, Matthew?"

"Yes, I did. Where did it come from?"

"I don't know."

"_Mrow!_"

"There!"

"I see it."

"…"

"…"

"He's injured."

"Oh, no. Here Matthew, let me see him, please."

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Well, it's too late to take him to a vet, yes?"

"…Yes, I guess so."

"I'm just going to make a temporary splint. I used to do this all the time with animals Ivan rescued. Do you have any milk to feed it?"

"I do."

"He's so cute. What should we name him?"

"Um, I don't know. What do you think, Katerina?"

"I like the name Saskatchewan. What about you?"

"It's perfect. Here's the milk."

"Ah, thank you."


	6. The Defeat of Swine Flu

Spain stared the personified Swine Flu in the eye. The furious green eyes of a Conquistador bore into the beady black eyes of the evil swine.

"Die." Spain commanded, lifting his axe in warning.

The Swine Flu gave a pitiful oink before collapsing.

People everywhere were suddenly healed, and Nations swarmed from all over to thank Spain for defeating the vile, loathsome, evil Swine Flu.


	7. Afternoon Siesta

The afternoon was warm, with just enough of a chill to hint that autumn was on its way. The sky was a clear blue, a hint of purple tinting it, reminding him of the eyes of the person lying next to him.

It was, all in all, a beautiful day, and Spain had thought it perfect to take his siesta outside, since winter would come sooner than he wished. The weight on his left arm shifted, and Spain tilted his head to meet the sleepy eyes of his partner.

"G'afternoon," Spain said brightly, moving closer to give the other a kiss.

Canada smiled into the kiss before breaking away to lean his head on Spain's shoulder. "Good afternoon, Spain."

Spain rested his head on Canada's, feeling his eyes close after one last look to the sky—a sky the same color as Canada's eyes. It really was a beautiful day.


	8. Madness? Why, of course not!

Turkey let out a huff as he took in the surroundings.

"So..._this_ is Sparta?" he asked, not sounding impressed in the least.

Greece sighed and nodded. "Yes. Were you expecting something else?"

"It's not quite as...disorderly as I remember."

"Disorderly? What in the world are you talking about?"

"You know! The chaos. The fighting. The rambunctiousness. This is madness! Don't tell me you forgot what it used to be like."

"Madness? You really are an idiot. THIS! IS! _SPARTA!!!_" Greece screamed, kicking Turkey in a move reminiscent of a Renaissance-era Italy.

With a look of terror, Turkey fell backwards into a conveniently placed foreboding body of water. "This is madness!"

"No. I told you, this is _SPARTA_!" Greece laughed before walking away, leaving the soaked Turkey behind.


	9. Family Reunions Are Hell

Canada nervously knocked on the door, not sure what to expect. He had gotten a call from America a few days before inviting him to a "family" reunion cook out. That in and of itself was out of the ordinary, but then the strangest thing happened.

His family remembered who he was.

Or, they remembered his cell phone number. When he checked his phone, there were a ton of messages from America, England, and France...and they all involved shouting, and what sounded like England taking over _something_.

Needless to say, Canada was worried.

"Oh! You're here!" England exclaimed, throwing the door open, beaming.

"Hello, England," Canada said quietly, clutching Kumajirou closer, wondering why England was answering _America's_ door.

"Come in! America and the frog are in the dining room. Dinner will be ready soon," the older Nation told him, giving him a gentle nudge towards the dining room before heading back into the kitchen, laughing.

Gulping, Canada entered the room and the sight before him caused him to raise an eyebrow.

There were America and France, but both were tied to their chairs, and America, at least, had evidence of crying.

"Run," France said quietly, his eyes darting from the kitchen, to Canada, and back again. "Run fast."

"I--" Canada took a step backward, bumping into what could only be England.

"Leaving so soon, Canada?" England asked, frowning. "I worked hard on dinner tonight. Please, take a seat."

Smiling weakly, Canada took a seat next to America, watching in horror as England went back into the smokey kitchen.

"I'm so sorry," America muttered. "I tried to ban him from the kitchen. I really did. He overpowered me."

"...How?" Canada asked weakly. How in the world did England of all people manage to overpower America?

"Ghosts." America turned away, refusing to elaborate further.

"Are you three ready for dinner?" England called from the kitchen, ignoring the groans that answered him.

"_Non!_ Tonight...we dine in hell!" France shouted as he tried his hardest to break free.

"Oh, shut up frog. It's not going to poison you!" England snapped, throwing a plate down in front of him. "Bon--ah. Forget it. Eat it or else."

Dinner truly was a hellish experience for three of the four present.


	10. Ghosts and Pancakes

"H-hey," America called out into the room. His voice was just loud enough to be heard by the inhabitant of the bed, but not loud enough so as to wake the others in the house.

"Whamph?" the figure on the bed mumbled into his pillow.

"Ca-can I sleep with you? There was a noise and I think it was a ghost and—" the other Nation gave a noise of approval, cutting America off.

"Thank you," America said quietly before climbing into bed. "It's just like old times, huh?"

"Huh?" the other mumbled before returning to a light snore.

Sunlight streamed into the room, falling on the half-sleeping Spain. Yawning, he wondered vaguely where he was before remembering that Canada had invited him over for movie night with his brothers, and that this was likely one of his guest rooms. Stretching, his foot brushed against a leg, causing his bedmate to jerk awake.

"Spain!" America shouted, falling from the bed in his excitement. "What are you doing here? Where's England?!"

Spain smiled and gave a small shrug. "Good morning, America. I don't know where England is. Why do you ask?"

"Wha—he was here last night!" America jumped to his feet. "And I bet the ghost was his fault, anyway!"

Chuckling, Spain slipped out of the bed, and America paled on seeing the other's chosen sleeping attire…nothing.

"He wasn't here last night, America." Turning from America, he grabbed his shirt and began dressing. "I guess that does explain your comment about old times, though," he mused, beginning to button his shirt.

"…Crap. I slept with you?"

"Mhmm." Spain didn't seem as bothered as America, however, as he pulled on a pair of trousers. "Do you smell pancakes? I think Canada's making some for breakfast." With that statement, Spain left the room, leaving the embarrassed America behind.

"Freaking ghosts," America grumbled, kicking the bedpost. It was bad enough that Canada, England, France, and Lithuania knew his weakness…and now Spain did, too. Who knew how long it would be before the whole world knew? He could just see it now…Russia, dressing up in a sheet with two holes cut out for eyes, popping out of corners and shouting "Boo!" He'd think it was the funniest thing in the world, frightening America.

Sighing, America, too, left the room. At least there would be pancakes.


	11. Penny Lane

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based on Penny Lane by The Beatles. I own neither the song nor Hetalia._

---

America sighed. "England."

"What?" England said absently, hardly glancing up from his paperwork.

"What in the world are you humming?"

"Hm?"

America hummed a few bars of the music, England cringing at how off it sounded. "That," America said a moment later.

"Oh, Penny Lane?"

"Yes. What is it?"

England's eyes brightened, scaring America. "You mean you haven't heard it yet?"

"No?"

"You have no idea what you're missing," England said dreamily jumping up from his desk. "Follow me."

"But—"

"No buts, come along." England grabbed America's hand and dragged him into a more lived in room before going and putting a record on.

"_Penny Lane~_"


	12. Fruits Basket Opening Theme

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based on the opening theme to Fruits Basket. I own neither Fruits Basket nor Hetalia._

---

Hungary let out a breath, leaning further against the side of the bath tub. The day had been stressful, what with Austria getting lost no less than five times and Prussia constantly bursting into her house.

But now, now she was taking a warm bath, and relaxing. Just relaxing.

Sometime later, she stepped out, relishing in the feeling of the plus carpet between her toes. She felt much better now. With a content sigh, she slipped on her bathrobe and floated out of the room, heading for the kitchen.

"Austria," She said quietly, smiling when she saw him in the kitchen, a cake in his hands. "Is that for me?"

"…Yes," He said, giving her a nervous smile.

Hungary laughed and bounced over, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "How come I ever let you go?"

"I don't know. Perhaps I just got lost along the way?"

"Perhaps," Hungary repeated, leaning in for a kiss, noting with slight amusement that Austria tasted sweet. He'd snuck a bite of the cake already. Perfect. "I love you, Austria."


	13. Freak Out

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based on Freak Out by Avril Lavigne. I own neither the song nor Hetalia._

---

"America, why can't you just leave well enough alone and butt out?" Canada asked, glaring at his brother.

"What are you talking about? I'm just trying to help."

"That's all you ever try to do. You only ever just try to help. And your attempts to help just fuck everything up. Stop telling me what to do. Stop trying to tell me how to live my life." His voice never rose above a whisper, but America could tell he was annoyed.

"Geeze, bro. If it bothers you that much, just tell me so. Don't bottle up your anger. Just let it out."

"…What do you think I'm doing now?"

"I don't know. Hey, are you going to make me pancakes?"

Canada sighed. Breathe. In. Out. Breathe. "America."

"Yeah?"

"Please, get out."

"Why?"

"You're getting on my nerves."

"Oh come on."

"America."

"Canada! What's with the hockey stick?!"


	14. Welcome to the Future

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based on Welcome to the Future by Brad Paisley. I own neither the song nor Hetalia._

---

"Damn, England, I feel so old," America said suddenly one morning.

England snorted before taking a sip of tea. "If you're old, what does that make me?"

America shrugged. "I dunno. But think about, England. Fifty years ago what did we have? We didn't have video games. Computers were huge. Airplanes weren't all that smooth and convenient. It was next to impossible to call long distance. We'd never been in space. There was still segregation…now look. We have these tiny handheld video games. Music can be found in tiny chips. Computers are mobile. Airplanes are even more awesome. Our phone lines are amazing. We've been to space multiple times. And, well, racism isn't gone completely but…we've come a long way, you know?"

England sighed, placing his cup on a plate with more force than he'd meant to. "And you're only two hundred years old. Can you imagine me? France? _China?_ Where do you think the world will be in another two hundred years?"

America let out a whistle. "I don't know. I can't even imagine."

England nodded, picking his cup up again. "Welcome to the future."

"Thanks," America said with a laugh, clapping England on the shoulder. "Hallelujah, eh?"

"Religion. Don't even get me started on the changes religion has gone through over the years."

"Oh, come on! You know you want to."

"I most certainly do not. It would take another two hundred years to explain!"


	15. Here I Am

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based on Here I Am by Bryan Adams. I own neither the song nor Hetalia._

---

He…he'd won. America…was America. He had his independence. He was his own person. He was…free. Free to be him. Free to be who he was. Free to be.

"I can't believe it," America said again. The founding fathers of his—_his_—country simply shook their heads and went back to discussing the new government. "We really won. I'm free to be myself, now, right?"

Washington smiled at him and nodded. "You're free to be yourself, America. We're all free. We're all free to be who we want to be. It's a new day."

America grinned. "It is a new day. And I'm a new me."

Grinning, America ran over to the window and threw it open. "Did you hear that, everyone? Here I am! This is me! And we're going to be the best country EVER!"

"America! Shut that window," one of the men scolded, but America simply laughed and closed the window.

"Don't be so stuffy! Can't you feel the excitement? We won! No one believed in us, but we did it! And now, now we can make things amazing! Together we can be awesome. Together, we can be the United States of America! Can't you just see it, now?"


	16. One Short Day

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based on One Short Day from Wicked. I own neither the song, the musical, the book, nor Hetalia._

---

"Canada, let's go!" America grabbed his brother's hand and began leading him off.

"Where are we going?"

"We're in London! Let's look around! England keeps going on and on about how this city is great. Let's see what there is to see! Look! That building is _huge_!"

Canada looked where his brother pointed, his mouth hanging open. "Woah. Do you think we'll ever have buildings that huge back home?"

"Maybe one day. No. We'll have bigger buildings!" America exclaimed, laughing.

Canada, caught up with his brother's excitement grinned, too, and pointed in another direction."This is amazing. It feels so busy here. Things to do. Things to see."

"Yeah!"

"What are you two doing?"

"England!" The boys chorused. "Thanks for bringing us here!"


	17. Monster Books and Boggarts!

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based Monster Books and Boggarts! as composed by John Williams for the Harry Potter and the Azkaban soundtrack. I own neither the song, the movie, the book, nor Hetalia._

_I hope everyone had a pleasant New Year's, and I wish you all the best in 2010!_

---

"Damnit, France, RUN!" England shouted, ducking under a tree branch.

"From wha---WHAT THE HELL, ENGLAND!" France yelled back, following behind England. "What the hell did you do, England?!"

"I…I don't…know," England huffed. "TURN LEFT!"

Both Nations jumped to the left just as something large and heavy landed where they stood not two seconds ago. The creature stayed still, and England cautiously peeked at it. One of its giant eyes opened, and England screamed before taking off running, France just behind.

Before too long, both Nations were standing outside of the forest, out of breath, but alive.

"Care to explain, _cher?_"

England shook his head and began the trek back to the village.


	18. Daughters

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is Daughters from John Mayer. I own neither the song nor Hetalia._

---

"Seychelles, come away from the water," France called, unable to keep the smile off his face.

That girl was going to be the death of him, he was sure. Constantly trying to get in the water, be in the sea despite the fact that she wasn't yet a strong swimmer.

"Oh…but papa! It's so bright and blue," Seychelles whined, though she obediently walked away from the edge of the shore.

"It is very bright and blue," France agreed, picking her up and holding her close. "Why don't we just sit over here and watch it, then? Maybe fish a little?"

Seychelles grinned, her whole face brightening. "Really? Fish for dinner?"

"If we're able to catch anything, I will make a delicious fish dinner."

"Yay!" Seychelles screeched and tried to squirm out of France's hold. "Put me down, papa! I'll catch a fish!"

France did as she wished, watching her run off. They were so cute at this age…hopefully she wouldn't turn out like England.


	19. When I'm With You

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based on When I'm With You from Simple Plan. I own neither the song nor Hetalia._

---

"_You…used to be so big."_

The words haunt him still.

_"…I want independence, after all." _

Every time he closes his eyes, he can still see it.

_"Engwand! Don't leave!" _

England never wanted to leave. America hated it when he left. So why did America have to leave? Why would he do that to him?

"You are such an idiot," England grumbled, downing his glass in one gulp. The bartender gave him a look of pity before placing another glass in front of him. "Do you know that, America? You are such an idiot!"

"…Talking about me behind my back again, England?"

England nearly fell off his chair. That was the last voice he ever expected to hear. "What are you doing here?"

"France called me. Said you needed help."

"Idiot."


	20. If You Can Dream

_The next few updates were written during a song meme. I put my MP3 player on shuffle, then wrote a drabble during the length of the song._

_Today's drabble is based on If You Can Dream from the Disney Princess: Ultimate Song Collection. I do not own the song, Disney, Disney Princess, or Hetalia._

---

"Hey, Canada, do you think we'll be strong nations some day?" America asked quietly. He was sharing a bed with Canada for the warmth, but neither wanted England to wake up. Their older brother wasn't exactly a morning person, after all.

"Hm, maybe," Canada answered sleepily. "Anything can happen, you know?"

"Yeah…I guess if we work hard, we can do anything right?"

"And maybe a bit of dreaming. England is pretty big right now…Somehow I don't think he'll let us get too big under him."

"Oh, geeze Canada. I'm sure he wouldn't try to hold us back. Why would he?"

"I don't know."

"I'm going to be a big nation one day. I'll work hard, dream big, and I'll be strong. A hero, even. It's a new world, Canada. That's what they call us."

"I know."

"We'll be big."

"If you say so."

"I know so. Good night, Canada." America leaned over and gave his brother a hug. "We'll always be best bros, right?"

"Of course," Canada said quietly, drifting off to sleep, still holding his brother.


	21. Snookiebear

Alfred let out a contented sigh. He'd just had one of the best nights of his life, and he had Arthur to thank for it.

Wearing a goofy grin, Alfred rolled over and gathered the still-out-of-breath Arthur into his arms. Arthur didn't resist, instead letting his body completely relax in Alfred's embrace.

Alfred held him close, nuzzling his neck. "That was awesome, snookiebear," he said softly.

Arthur gave a grunt in agreement. That had been--wait. "What did you call me?" Arthur asked, pulling away.

"Snookiebear?" Alfred repeated, looking confused. "Is something wrong?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Why in the world would you call me that?"

Alfred laughed, shrugging. "Why not? You are, you know. My little snookiebear."

"Do you always do that?" Arthur asked, willing his blush to fade.

"Do what?"

"Call your lovers embarrassing pet names."

"Does it matter? You're my only snookiebear."

Arthur groaned and laid back down against Alfred. "You're a brat."

"Love you, too, snookiebear."


	22. Driving Lessons

The back of Germany's head slammed into the headrest as the car came to a sudden, jerky stop. Germany groaned, his worsening headache not being helped by Italy's incessant apologies.

"Very-very good, Italy," he said through gritted teeth. "You went forward this time like you were supposed to. Now, try again, but this time, touch the gas pedal softly."

Italy adjusted his grip on the wheel, pouting. He thought he had pushed the pedal gently.

"Go ahead and go at any moment, Italy."

"Ve, right, Germany!" Italy exclaimed, beaming brightly, eyes closed, and stomping - no, wait, Germany had said softly - _gently_ pushing the gas pedal.

The car gave a slight lurch before everything went completely silent and still.

Eyes wide, Italy turned to Germany. "What happened?"

"The battery must have died," Germany sighed.

"_Died_? I-I _killed_ it? Oh no! I'm so sorry, car!" Italy began wailing while Germany silently vowed to never offer to teach someone how to drive ever again.


	23. Muse

_I'm back to drabbles based on songs. This one was based on Muse's "_I Belong to You - Mon Coeur S'ouvre a Ta Voix."_ I do not own Hetalia nor the song._

oOoOo

"Bonjour Angleterre!"

England glared and shut the door in France's face.

"Wait! England!" France exclaimed, holding a hand up.

"Go home, France!" England shouted through the door before turning and huffing off into the kitchen.

"Merde," France sighed, resting his clenched fist against the door. "Why won't he listen?"

"No matter!" He pulled his hand away, nodding. "I will force him to hear me out. He has to!" Quickly, but quietly, always quietly, he made his way around to the back of England's house. Knowing England for as long as he had, he was fairly certain that he would now be in the kitchen attempting to drown his woes in an excess of alcohol. With any luck, France would be able to slip in.

Sure enough, France reached the back of the house and, looking through a window, saw England sitting at a table, looking most miserable. Smiling his most charming smile and pulling out one of his many roses, France knocked on the back door.

England, nursing a newly growing headache, groaned and stared at the door. It was that bloody frog again, he was sure of it. What in the world did he want? The knocking on the door sounded again, cutting through England's head and pounding directly on the source of the ache. "Shut up," he growled, pushing away from the table and walking over the door.

He yanked it open, "Go away" on the tip of his tongue when France held up the rose with a flourish and said, "Please, let me explain."

England merely looked at him. France smiled, taking the still-open door as invitation to continue on. "I don't say this often—" England snorted, but France ignored it, "—but I—you know, I traveled all this way to tell you in person. I lo—you are my mu—"

"Bloody frog," England growled again, slamming the door shut, wincing as the sound hurt him more than it hurt France.

"Wait, no, Angleterre! England! Listen to me! Je t'aime! And only you! England! Angleterre! Écoutes!" France shouted through the door. "I'm being serious for once!"

England leaned against the door, heaving another sigh. For once. Why should this time be any different from any of the others? France would always be France. He would never change. England had learned his lesson last time.

"Angleterre, please! Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix. I belong to you. You inspire me. Please, just, listen!" France continued.

"Shut up," England whispered. "Just, shut up."

"Angleterre!"

"Shut up," a little louder. England shook his head. He couldn't open that door again. Not again. Not this time. Nothing was going to change.

"Please, England. Arthur!"

"Francis," England sighed forlornly. Knowing he'd regret it later, he moved away from the door and opened it, surprised to see how dejected France looked momentarily before he realized that it was open.

"England?"

"Do you want something to drink?" England turned on his heel, leaving the door open, and returned to the table.


	24. Fall For You

_I'm back to drabbles based on songs. This one was based on Secondhand Serenade's "_Fall For You"_ I do not own Hetalia nor the song._

oOoOo

"Here you go. Pancakes. And there's maple syrup on the table," Canada muttered, placing a plate of pancakes on the table in front of America. "Enjoy."

"Pancakes for dinner without me having to beg?!" America exclaimed, picking up a fork and preparing to dig in. Canada let out a sad smile before disappearing back into the kitchen.

America cut a small piece of pancake and had it poised just beside his mouth when the image of Canada's smile made its way through his mind. Smile… it had been sad though, hadn't it? Why? Frowning, America dropped the fork and quickly moved into the kitchen.

"Canada?" There was no response, and America's frowned grew. No one was in the kitchen. "Canada?" America called again, louder. No response.

"What's-his-name went outside, America. He looked like he was crying," Kumajirou commented from his position on the counter. It looked like he had been eating the extra pancakes.

"Crying? Why?" America was stumped. What had happened? They'd been having a nice evening, hadn't they? No fighting. No yelling. No screaming. Even the teasing and snark had been at a minimum. So what was wrong?

Kumajirou shrugged. "Dunno."

"Thanks," America muttered before running out the door. Where would he be? Where—the woods. They had a little hide-a-way out there. Perhaps that's where he disappeared to? "Canada!" he called out, once again hearing no response.

"Ow. Ouch. Ow, stupid tree branches. Stop attacking me. I'm trying to be the hero!" America smacked another tree branch out of the way. Who knew just how hard it would be to see at night?

"Stupid. Stupid America," he heard in the distance, followed by what sounded like a rock landing in water. "Thanks for the food. Thanks for letting me take over your house. Thanks for this. Thanks for that. No happy anniversary. No I love you. No you're awesome. Just… food!" Canada sounded incredibly bitter and America made it to the clearing just in time to see him throw a rock in the water. He assumed that Canada meant to skip it, but the rock made one feeble attempt before splashing in.

America knew that he should go over and do _something_, comfort him, hold him, tell him that he was an idiot for forgetting but that he still loved him. But the picture Canada made… standing by the water, in the middle of the woods he called home, framed by the moonlight, finally showing his true emotions… it took America's breath away. He was beautiful and America felt like an even bigger asshole for not having realized sooner.

"Canada," America breathed, taking a step forward. He hadn't meant to alert Canada to his presence just yet, but he accidentally stepped on a twig, giving away his position.

Canada whirled around, his anger and shock dissipating when he realized it was just America. "Oh, hi. I… just came out here for some fresh air."

America rolled his eyes and walked over to Canada. "You're lying."

"No, no I'm not," Canada said with a laugh, wanting to take a step back but unable to do to the water.

"I heard you, you know. I'm sorry. You know how bad I am with dates," America said with a shrug. Canada snorted. "You kind of walked off before I could tell you how awesome you are at making pancakes. And that I was enjoying the, you know, not fighting. And that you are completely awesome and the best any guy could ask for," America continued, finally reaching Canada and embracing him in a hug.

"Liar," Canada shot back half-heartedly, leaning into his embrace.

"It's true!"

"Shut up," Canada told him with a laugh, turning his head slightly and meeting America in a kiss.


	25. France and his Diamond

_A friend of mine asked to see one of the other proposals I alluded to back in drabble #4, Diamonds are a Girl's (and France's) Best Friend. So this is like a prequel to that drabble._

ooOOoo

France took one last look in the mirror. Hair? Perfect. Not one strand out of place. Teeth? He smiled. White. Straight. Perfect. Breath? Minty fresh. Clothes? Perfectly stylish.

He was ready. He was determined. He had a _plan_. Today, _today_ he was going to get one of the Nations to say yes to his proposal of marriage. And how could anyone say no to him? He was the Nation of love, after all!

"First, England!"

ooOOoo

England said no. Or rather, England had threatened to break every bone in his body before castrating him if he said anything past "Will you." France had decided that pursuing his hand in marriage simply wasn't worth it.

"But no matter! America! He will surely say yes. How could he not?"

And thankfully for him, America happened to be in town for a world meeting, so France didn't even have to travel! All he had to do was locate the hotel and appear in all of his marvelous splendor, showing his magnificent diamond ring.

What was easily said was easily done. He was at the hotel in no time, finding himself just outside America's door.

He knocked thrice, and then got down on one knee, holding the ring up. The door opened and France gave his most charming smile.

"America, will you marry me?"

His question was met with complete silence. Frowning at the lack of an immediate "Yes!", France looked up, seeing only a white bear at the door.

"Who?"

France deflated. It was that darned bear of…one of his ex-colonies. Seychelles, maybe?

"Is someone at the door? Come in!" America shouted from somewhere in the room. France perked and stood up. He had a second chance!

"America~ how are you, _mon lapin_?" France called, waltzing into the hotel room.

"Eh, fine, I guess," America said with a shrug, not turning away from the TV and taking a large sip of soda. "What's up?"

"America," France started, coming around and separating America from the TV. An inane jingle began playing and France rolled his eyes before turning it off.

"Hey, I was watching that!" America exclaimed, reaching for the remote.

"America," France said again, placing his hand over America's. "Listen to me for a moment?"

America sighed and pulled his hand away. "What do you want, France?"

France dropped to one knee and held out the box. "America, will you marry me?"

Silence. Again. Then America started laughing. "Seriously? No, seriously? What do you want France?"

France frowned. Of course. "I am serious, America. Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

The laughter continued for another moment before cutting off. "Oh, shit, France, you're serious, aren't you?"

France looked up at him, waiting.

America sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Look, I don't know how to tell you this but I'm kind of… I'm taken, ok? I'm sorry."

France blinked in surprise. America? Taken? By whom? He opened his mouth to ask but closed it with a shake of his head. No. Not today. That would be a mystery bettered solved another day. "Oh."

America gave an apologetic smile before reaching for the remote and turning the TV back on.

France took that as a dismissal and stood. "Well, I shall see you at the meeting later."

"Yeah. See ya," America said, giving him an absent minded wave.

Well, England and America were just the beginning. France still had many others on his list. There was no way they could _all_ say no, right?

"Hey, America, did you know the door was open?"

France's ears perked. _Canada_!


	26. Tea Glorious Tea

Tea. There was such a variety of it. White. Yellow. Green. Oolong. Black. Pu-erh. Herb. Red. And those were just the beginning. There were many different varieties. Different tastes. Different colors. Different meanings. Different uses.

The history behind tea was amazing. But one thing made it so wonderful to Hong Kong.

Each culture had its own tea. Each culture had its own history in tea. But many cultures met through tea. It was truly a multi-cultural drink.

"This tea is delicious," Canada said softly, looking up and giving Hong Kong a smile.

"Thank you. I swiped it from England's collection," Hong Kong told him. Well, no one said that tea was always an honest drink.


	27. Slow Down!

"Alfred, dear, slow down?" Francis called out.

Alfred turned around and upon noticing just how far behind Francis was, skidded to a halt. "Sorry!"

Grinning, Francis continued his leisurely pace. He only slowed once he caught up to Alfred to take his hand. "Where's the fire?"

Alfred laughed, looking almost sheepish. "No fire, but I really want to get to the restaurant soon. It's late and—"

Francis chuckled and patted Alfred's hand. "There is no rush. You decided we'd take a shortcut through the park, so let us enjoy the lovely scenery."

"Ok," Alfred nodded, feeling a slight tug on his hand when Francis once again started walking.


	28. Silent, NotSoScary Night

"I'll take the bed. You can have the couch."

That's what Belarus had said shortly after dinner, much to America's dismay. Not that he was in this for a physical relationship, oh no. He simply liked to cuddle, and it got cold at night.

"Of course!"

That's what America had said. No fighting. No arguing. He even refrained from puppy dog eyes this time. It's what she wanted, and so it's what he gave.

But he was still alone. Alone on the couch, the night growing ever colder, the dark ever quieter. There would be a creak every so often, the house being so old it was settling, and America would tense.

He wasn't afraid. Of course not. He wasn't afraid of the dark. He wasn't cold. He was a hero. He was a good boyfriend. He'd persevere, even if he knew the bed would be warmer.

There was another creak, this one louder than the others. America further stiffened, carefully listening. If it was a ghost, he'd have to save Belarus. It wouldn't be right of a hero to leave a young lady--he ignored the fact that she was probably older than he was--by herself.

"Are you still awake?"

America jolted up. "Belarus?"

She stared at him from the doorway for a moment before walking over and sitting on the edge of the couch.

"Is...is something wrong, Bela?" America held back a gulp as Belarus shot him a glare. She did so hate that nickname.

"No, nothing's wrong," she muttered, laying down alongside--and against--America. "The bed was too big. This is far more comfortable."

America put his arms around Belarus, holding her close, smiling.

The night continued on, cold, silent but for the occasional creak. But America didn't mind as long as Belarus was by his side.


	29. Wait for Me

"Ko-korea," Taiwan stammered, blushing red as Korea moved from nibbling her ear down to her neck.

"Hm?" Korea muttered without slowing.

"Kor-korea! Stop!" Taiwan said a little more forcefully and pushed Korea away.

"Ah, ok, ok," Korea grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. "You didn't have to push so hard."

Taiwan flushed again and bowed her head. "Sor-sorry."

"What's wrong?" Korea looked like he wanted to move closer, but Taiwan gave him a warning look and he sighed and stayed put.

"It's—are you sure, Korea?" Taiwan asked after a moment of silence, never looking up from her lap.

Korea looked confused. "Am I sure, what?"

"Are you sure you want to—to do this with—with me? What about China? Or—or…" Taiwan trailed off, looking almost miserable.

"Taiwan," he said quietly. She looked up at him and he frowned when he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Taiwan," he said again, moving closer and brushing the tears off her cheeks. "If you don't want to, that's fine."

"It's—it's not that I don't want to." Taiwan sighed and leaned in closer to Korea's hand. "I just—I thought you loved them so much and now you're with—with me. I can't help but feel that maybe I'm—nevermind, it's silly." She started laughing softly, trying to hide a sob.

"Taiwan," Korea said again, dropping his hand. "If I didn't love you, I wouldn't be here."

Taiwan's shaky laughter died, but she said nothing, continuing to look morosely at her hands.

"I love you. But if you don't love me, that's ok. There is no rush," Korea said softly, pulling Taiwan into a hug. "I can wait."


	30. Fate Isn't All That Mean

France sighed, rolling his head to one side, wincing at the cracking sound. The meeting had gone on for what seemed like hours, no wait, it had been going on for hours. It wasn't an exaggeration. The officials kept going on and on and on about policies that weren't changing anytime soon, and France didn't know why he had to sit and listen to these ridiculous talks.

"Meeting adjourned."

Finally! France was the first one up, not caring how rude he appeared to the others in the room. He was going to go home, cook a little dinner, take a long warm bath, and then prepare for his trip to Canada tomorrow. He had hoped to pack today, but the meeting had dragged on longer than expected and he'd run out of time. But no matter. He would be home within the hour.

What he didn't expect when he finally reached his house, however, was that his lights were on. He let out another sigh when he found out his door was unlocked. Wonderful. He had an intruder in his house. The day just wasn't going his way. Fate couldn't throw him a bone, could she?

"France, is that you?"

France stood in the doorway in shock. That voice! Was that—

"France," Canada said again, walking out of the kitchen. In fact, now that France paid attention, he could smell something smelling of tomatoes and various spices wafting through the house. "I missed you," Canada said shyly, coming over and giving him a hug.

"I missed you, too." France returned the hug, but Canada pulled away much too soon for France's comfort, mumbling something about the pasta and returning to the kitchen.

Smiling fondly, France followed him. "I thought I was supposed to be going to iyour/i house this weekend, Canada?"

"Yes, well—eep," Canada let out a sound of surprise when France put his arms around his middle. "France, I'm cooking. You can't hold me while I'm cooking."

France pouted, laying his head on Canada's shoulder. "But it's pasta and sauce," he almost whined. "You only need one hand to stir, not your whole body."

"France," Canada said sternly, using a wooden spoon to bat him away gently. "Not while I'm cooking." Almost as an afterthought, Canada gave France a quick peck on the nose before turning back to the pasta. "Anyway, I decided I'd come visit you instead. I know you've been busy lately, and jet lag isn't that fun, you know?"

Smiling mischievously, France returned to his previous position of holding Canada. "Have I ever mentioned how much I love you?"

Canada rolled his eyes. "Yes. Je t'aime aussi. Let me finish dinner, please?" He blushed and mumbled something else.

His grin growing wider, France pressed closer to Canada. "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

Canada shook his head, freeing an arm from France's hold to stir the sauce.

"Please, Canada? What did you say?" France repeated, whispering in his ear.

Bright red, Canada turned and pushed France away. "I said you can't have dessert until after dinner and I bet it's something, uh, you'll really like."

"Is that a promise?" France asked, finally taking the hint and sitting in a chair rather suggestively.

"Yes," Canada said firmly, giving the sauce another stir. "I think you'll enjoy it very much," he continued, turning and giving France one of those sly smiles that he does oh-so rarely but that France loves oh-so much.

The sauce made a spluttering sound and just as quickly as it had appeared, the sly smile disappeared and Canada was back to tending dinner. France didn't mind, though, given that he now had a perfect view of his boyfriend. It seems that Fate had heard his plea and thrown him a bone after all.


	31. Latvia's Smile

Every time Estonia sees Latvia, he's trembling. He's working hard, doing his best to please… _him_. And it breaks Estonia's heart.

Especially since every time he sees them together, he sees that Latvia has eyes for no other, while _he_ has eyes for only one other.

Estonia thinks it's rather sad all things considered. And, perhaps, he feels something more than that. An odd feeling, something like compassion.

Why, he doesn't know. Latvia isn't his brother, not really. Estonia hears them lumped together as siblings all the time, but it's a lie. It's not true. They're nothing more than strangers.

Or that's how it used to be.

Somewhere along the way, it changed. Somewhere along the years, he finds himself growing to care for the trembling Nation more and more.

More often than not, now, when Latvia was shaking and crying, he'd come to Estonia. More often than not, now, Estonia found himself caring for Latvia's wounds. Listening to him cry. Wiping away his tears.

Was that what brothers were for?

And then, things changed. _He_ grew more demanding. _He_ continued only having eyes for Lithuania, Estonia's other not-brother. Latvia took the brunt of _his_ attention willingly while Lithuania was gone, and Estonia couldn't fathom why.

Latvia never seemed happy on his own. The only time Estonia ever saw his eyes light up anymore was when he was in the room with _him_ and even then, those bright eyes ended up filled with tears and Latvia was shaking again.

Estonia couldn't understand why Latvia was so determined. It made no sense to him at all.

"Estonia."

Estonia jumped, dropping the bandage he'd been applying to Latvia's back. "Yes, Latvia?"

"He… he's never going t-to re-really see me, is he?" Latvia hiccupped and sounded so miserable Estonia wasn't really sure what to do.

"No," he finally settled on, sighing. He carefully applied the bandage, wincing when Latvia jumped.

They sat in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, though, Estonia had had enough.

"Why? Why are you so obsessed with _him_?"

Latvia flinched, and Estonia frowned. That had been louder than he'd meant it to be.

"I-I-I don't kn-now," Latvia muttered, scuffing his foot on the floor.

The awkward silence continued, both of them growing ever more miserable. Finally, Latvia looked up at Estonia, his eyes bright with tears. "Th-thank you."

"For what?" Estonia almost snapped, but he didn't. He kept it a civil tone.

"F-for being t-there. And… and c-caring for me," Latvia almost whispered.

Estonia nodded and, feeling increasingly awkward, placed his hand on Latvia's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "It's… it's what brothers are for, isn't it?"

Latvia looked momentarily shocked, but then he smiled. That smile… Estonia vowed from that day forward, he would do whatever it took to see that smile again. Even if it meant watching Latvia pine after _him_. Even if it meant constantly having to dress wounds and lend an ear. No matter what, Estonia would do what needed to be done to see that smile.


	32. In Loving Memory

Italy was working hard in the kitchen, pleased that Austria had _finally_ relented and let him cook dinner. To show off his happiness, Italy had even taken to singing! It was one of his own songs, one about the world and of course, food! Oh, glorious food.

Austria was confused as he stood watching Italy from the doorway. Italy had just found out that the Holy Roman Empire wouldn't be returning, and yet, there he was in the kitchen, happy as could be. Shouldn't he be sad? Austria had been expecting more tears and a less willing attitude towards work. So why was Italy acting as if nothing has happened?

Austria couldn't take it anymore. "Italy."

Italy jumped, splashing some of the water onto his apron. "Ve~ yes, Austria? You surprised me!" Italy laughed and continued working on dinner.

"Aren't you sad?"

Italy paused for a moment then shook his head. "Nope! Why?" He put the pot down and turned to Austria, eyes wide. "Is Austria sad? Why are you sad?"

Austria shook his head, surprised when Italy threw himself at him in a hug. "Don't be sad, Austria!"

"N-no, not me," Austria huffed, trying to push Italy away. "You should be sad! What about the Holy Roman Empire? I thought you loved him! Shouldn't you be sad that he's not coming back?"

Italy let go of Austria, looking stunned. A quick shake of his head, however, and Italy was back to his usual expression. "Oh, Austria. You really are silly. Of course I'm sad he's not coming back! But," Italy smiled, "I knew him. I loved him. I have my memories of him, and those aren't going away. I'm glad I knew him. I wouldn't change a thing about the past." Italy paused and turned back to the dinner, causing Austria to miss when his expression turned sad. "It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all," Italy said quietly.

ooOOoo

_A small note: "It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all" was written by Alfred Lord Tennyson in 1850. Yes, that means the statement is an anachronism :)_


	33. Rico Rico Oh

_I've realized that I've been really bad at keeping these drabbles labeled at the top of each chapter and will make it a point to keep them labeled in the future. Would readers prefer if I go back and add in-chapter labels to the earlier chapters as well?_

_Spain and Tomatoes. They've been through so much together and if it weren't for them, why, he would no longer see a certain Italian Nation! Spain, Romano, Tomatoes. Rated: K Genre: General_

ooOOoo

Spain had been through much in his life. He had gone from being a tiny country to a giant empire feared by all. He had gone from being a large empire to being a poor country. He had made and lost friends. He had been a boss with subordinates. He had known loves. He had had great success and wealth (especially that of the golden variety). But, most important of all, he had had discoveries.

The greatest of these discoveries?

The tomato.

He had come across it one day while dealing with the natives in his American colonies. Spain could remember that day almost as if it was yesterday. He and his men had just taken a town, the sun was shining bright, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. Nothing gave the hint that that day was going to change his life.

And then they brought it out. The tomato. Spain remembered scoffing at the color and thinking that there was no way such a thing was edible, let alone delicious.

Oh how wrong he was. One bite was all it took for him to fall in love. The fruit was succulent and oh so juicy. The taste… he was never able to figure out how to describe that first bite. It was heaven-sent and, sadly, he had never been able to recreate that exact moment no matter how hard he tried.

The tomato had completely entranced him, however. He felt that it was his duty to spread it _everywhere_ and so he did. The rest of the Spanish-American colonies. The Philippines. Europe, especially his dear Italies.

Truth be told, he hadn't expected Romano's reaction to the tomato to be so positive. Spain had expected a headbutt for his efforts and then forcing Romano to eat the red treasure. Much to his surprise, however, Romano tried it with only a little argument. Though he declared it to be a vile, tasteless, disgusting thing, Spain knew better. And eventually, Romano gave up the act.

Yes, the tomato. Spain loved few things more. It really had been a fortunate discovery and Spain thanked God every day for having been shown such a delicious find.

"Spain!" Romano shouted and broke Spain out of his reverie.

"Are you dancing with a _tomato_?" Romano asked, glaring at Spain from the door.

Spain blinked at Romano in momentary confusion, a tomato in hand. He had been dancing, hadn't he?

"Romano!" Spain cried, running over and giving Romano a hug. "Have you come to dance with boss and share the fruitful tomato harvest?"

Romano struggled in Spain's embrace before finally working enough room between them to push him away. "No way! I don't dance! And stop calling yourself boss, idiot!"

Spain smiled and laughed, dancing back to his basket of tomatoes. That was another thing he was grateful for. Tomatoes gave Romano a reason to keep coming back and visiting him. Yes, they truly had been a wonderful discovery.


	34. Great Spirits

_England and Canada are on their way to meet America. Canada...isn't all there right now. England, Canada Rated: K Genre: General_

ooOOoo

"Canada! We're going to be late! Let's go!"

But Canada continued his leisurely pace, letting the sun shine down and soak through him. "There is no rush, England."

"You know as well as I do that we have to be there to end that bloody war."

Canada shook his head. "England, look around. Enjoy the scenery. There is no rush. The spirits are speaking to us today. America is likely going to be late as well."

England jerked to a stop. "The spirits? What are you talking about?"

Canada smiled and gestured around the wilderness, closing his eyes as he took in the feelings. "Don't tell me you can't feel it. You're even more in tuned with the spirits of the wild than we are. Listen to them. They're begging us to slow down and enjoy each others' presence. Can't you hear them?"

England frowned and sighed. "You know I can't hear your spirits."

Canada's eyes snapped open. "My spirits? My spirits? England," he said softly, almost chiding. "All of the spirits are the same. Yours are mine, and mine are yours. We're all the same in their eyes. Haven't you been listening?"

England closed his eyes and counted to ten. He still didn't understand what Canada was feeling but... America never showed up on time anyway. And if his brother thought he'd be late, there really wasn't a need to hurry then, was there?


	35. Kiss the Switzerland

_Liechtenstein is curious as to why Austria and Switzerland no longer get along. Hungary has the answer!_

_Austria/Switzerland; Hungary, Liechtenstein. Rated: K Genre: General_

ooOOoo

"Hungary," Liechtenstein said while casting furtive looks around the room. "What happened that caused brother and Austria to be so unhappy with each other?"

"Hm?" Hungary asked, her eyes widening. "Why do Switzerland and Austria no longer get along?"

Liechtenstein nodded and Hungary laughed, looking anywhere but at her.

_"Um, are you sure about this, Hungary?" Austria frowned._

_"Yes! I'm positive. Just go over and do it!"_

_Austria started to bite his lip but stopped himself. Hungary had an odd gleam in her eye. "If you say so," he muttered._

_"Go!" Hungary gave him a small push and he, stumbling, began to walk over to the only other person in the room._

_"Uh, Switzerland?" Austria said hesitantly, shooting Hungary a look over his shoulder. She gave him a go-ahead gesture and he took a deep breath._

_"What?" Switzerland snapped, moving his focus from the sword in his hand to Austria._

_"I...I...uh..."_

_"Austria just do it!" Hungary hissed._

_Austria nodded and leaned forward, leaning down to give Switzerland a kiss._

_A loud smack resounded and Hungary winced when Austria fell to the ground in a faint._

"They had a political fall out, dear," Hungary told Liechtenstein, smiling. "I'm sure they'll get over it one day."


	36. New Day

_Hey! Been awhile, hasn't it? Hope you didn't miss me too much :'D_

_This drabble is only America, based on the song New Day from Griffen House (disclaimer: I don't own the song nor Hetalia) and just delves into some of my headcanon on America._

ooOOoo

It may come as a surprise to the rest of the world but Alfred (not America, _Alfred_. America is simply a persona, Alfred is the person behind the mask, the one with emotions that truly matter) does not like to fight. He does not like to argue. He does not like to search for conflict. He much prefers running, laughing, going on adventures, having fun, living life, and, most important of all, making sure that others enjoy life, as well.

He has never looked for conflict, but conflict finds him. When he sees others hurting, others in need of help, others needing a hero… he wants to be there for them. Alfred wants to help and make the world the best place it could be.

Alfred is not proud of all of his fights, but he knows they were necessary. He has fought alongside and against friends, sometimes in the same conflict. He has seen things he wishes he could erase from his mind. He has felt terrible pain, sadness, and, especially lately, shame. And yet, he always has a smile on his face. He knows that eventually things will be better.

Alfred can count the number of those he trusts with absolutely everything on one hand, but that does not bean he does not love all of the connections he has made in the past. Every single person he has come across has left an impression on him, and he is almost positive that he has left an impression on them. He has loved and lost, but he has never hated. Oh, there have been times where he has wished he was even capable of channeling his anger into hate, but he never has, never could. There have been times where he has felt hated, disliked, scorned, even, but over time he has come to realize that perceptions are always changing. No one ever has ever hated him for long.

When Alfred looks in the mirror, he can smile at his reflection. He can tell himself that today is going to be a good day, simply because it is a new day. Every day he wakes up is a new chance. A new chance to save the day, to love, to argue, to live. He sees no point in hiding from his past, no point in running from the inevitable in the future.

Alfred will simply live and strive to make the world a better place. That is his goal upon waking every day. He is well aware that he will win some and lose some. He is well aware that some days will not go the way he hopes, and there will be times he wishes he could have a reset button. And yet, those days will never make him give up. He will always continue on. He will always keep living. Every day is a new day.


	37. Protect Me

_Another song based drabble. This stars France and Prussia. It's the middle of the French Revolution, and France no longer cares about himself. Prussia steps in. The song it's based on is __Protège__- __Moi by Placebo and I own neither it nor Hetalia._

ooOOoo

France's Revolution leaves him bloody and weak. Mentally he is torn between all of the different sides, and physically he is tired from running. He is pursued for both his position and his advice. He no longer knows if he has the energy to keep running from the guillotine or to stay neutral. He takes refuge from the hell that has come to his country in his house, drinking away his problems with anything he can get his hands on. It is not healthy, and if he were a normal human, chances were he would be dead by now. But he is not. He might be soon, maybe, depending on what happens at the end of the Revolution. But right now he is living a sort of half life.

There is a loud pounding on the door, but France thinks that it is simply his headache growing worse. He cannot remember the last time he was without a headache, so it seems to be a logical jump. Logic. France chuckles weakly. Logic is, was, is part of the problem. It always was, it always will be. And the pounding grows louder.

"France you wine bastard, open up!"

France's chuckles turn into full blown laughter. He has heard that before. Come out, come out wherever you are~! We have a nice guillotine ready for you~! France was not going to fall for it. He did not then, and he would not now.

The voice at the door screams again and France ignores it, taking a half hearted sip from whatever it is in his bottle. He thinks it stopped being wine days ago.

"Francis!" The screaming and pounding got louder and, suddenly, a crack. The door fell inward and France looked up, seeing a body silhouetted against the door.

"_La mort est venu pour moi_?" Francis laughed. Death has come for him. That is the only thing that would dare to cross his threshold now.

The figure in the doorway shakes his head and walks into the room, every step confidant and showing how strong, how put together he was.

"Death? Please. Don't flatter me," Prussia laughed, coming to a stop in front of France. "You look like shit."

France grunts and attempts to sip again, but Prussia grabs his arm.

"What is that you're drinking? Doesn't smell like any alcohol I know," Prussia mutters, pulling the bottle from France's hand.

"_Vas t'en_," France growls and weakly holds his hand out for the drink.

Prussia cackles and shakes his head, throwing the bottle behind him. The tinkling of broken glass causes France to snarl. "I'm not leaving," Prussia tells him, coming around the table to stand behind France. "This Revolution is tearing you apart. You look like something Death shat out."

France gives him a look that simply says "So?"

Prussia rolls his eyes and puts his arms around France, picking him up. He is momentarily surprised at just how _thin_ and _light_ France has gotten. "You need my help, Francis." There is no movement from the man in his arms. Prussia looks down and sees that Francis has passed out.

Prussia sighs and holds France closer. "You are one of the only people I'd put my life on hold to come out and help, bastard. Don't die on me when I'm around, got it?" There is still no answer as Prussia carries him across the threshold and towards his home, away from the bloody Revolution of France.

ooOOoo

_La mort est venu pour moi? –_ Death has come for me?

_Vas t'en_- Go away


	38. Brothers' Dream

_(Some Nations have memories. Others merely have dreams. America and Canada.)_

It seems to be a general consensus among the Nations that they all have had parents at one point in time. Some Nations can still remember spending time with their mothers, while others can remember just the vaguest outline before being found by another, older Nation.

America and Canada, too, agree and while they listen to other Nations' tell their memories, neither can remember anything of their own mother. America remembers nothing before running away from Sweden and Finland. Canada remembers only the wilderness.

But they both dream.

America dreams of a woman with long, dark hair, who leans over him, kisses him, and tells him to keep on surviving and that his strength will save his people. Just before the dream ends, the woman turns into a rabbit, and he finds himself surrounded by animals.

Canada dreams of a similar woman, who tells him to do his best and to always persevere. She touches his cheek, runs a hand through his hair, and then, just before the end, a white bear materializes. This bear would be his protector, her gift to him.

It is an unspoken agreement between the two brothers to not tell the rest of the world these dreams. They have no way of knowing for sure if this ethereal woman is their mother or not, and they see no reason to let more of their bond be shared and taken by the rest of the world.

So they listen. They watch. They live.

And they dream.


	39. McSlam

_(Summary: America really doesn't like surprises. Rating: K+. Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.)_

America was happily chowing down on his burger in the middle of McDonald's, not a care in the world, when suddenly, his world went black. He blinked in surprise when he realized that there was a hand over his eyes and a hand on his back and oh no someone was trying to kidnap him!

"Unhand me you fiend!" America shouted and grabbed the hand over his eyes, twirled once, twice, three times, before letting go and hearing a crash as a large body collided with the wall.

A familiar large body. Covered in a long, tan coat. A scarf trailing behind.

"Oh, fuck," America swore and jumped from his seat, running over to the motionless lump on the ground.

"Yo," America said, poking the lump with his foot. "Yo, Russia, dude, get up." He nudged him again, discreetly looking around to see if anyone had noticed. If any of the fellow diners had, they were ignoring them now. "You ok?"

Russia moaned and looked up at America, placing his hand over America's foot to stop the nudging. "You do not like surprises," he said matter of factly.

America chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "Want a burger?"

Russia rolled his eyes and got to his feet. How like America to try to change the subject. "You are paying."

"As if." America stuck his tongue out at Russia but walked to the counter anyway, pulling out his wallet along the way.


	40. Snow Day

Belarus awoke slowly, deliberately blinking her eyes to bring the room into focus. Something seemed… _off_ about the morning light. Or, rather, the lack of it.

America rolled over, smiling brightly at her. "Looks like the blizzard came early."

"Hm?" Belarus blinked again, looking from the window—it was darker outside than it should have been, that explained the lack of light—to America's shining face. The words, and their implications, fell into place. "The snow started earlier than it was predicted."

"So it seems," America confirmed. Then, as he was one who just had to see it to believe it, he stepped out of the bed—Belarus couldn't help but be disappointed at the sudden loss of his warmth—and hopped over to the window, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like "cold floor, cold floor, cold floor." He pulled the blinds back and Belarus was treated to the sight of snow covering the bottom part of the window pane, snow falling hard from the sky.

America watched the snow for a moment then nodded. "Your flight is definitely canceled," he commented and looked at the bed, appearing to be lost in a mental calculation.

The next thing Belarus knew, he had launched himself into the air and landed on the bed in a heap, causing her to fly up a bit and landing back down with an "oomph." Glaring, she settled back down comfortably into the bed. "Was that really necessary?"

"Mhm," America nodded and scooted close, gathering her up into his arms. "The floor was cold." There was a pause, and then America whispered into her hair, almost shyly, "Wanna stay in bed all day? It's too cold for anything else."

Belarus couldn't keep her smile back completely. "Whatever," she muttered, and let him hold her close.


	41. Cold Feet

_(America and England tackling the problem that is cold feet)_

ooOOoo

"America," England grumbled during the commercial break of American Idol.

"Yup?" America asked, adjusting his position a bit. He was stretched out completely on the couch, his feet resting in England's lap.

"Your feet are bloody freezing. Remove them from my person."

America snorted and lifted his right foot, laying it against England's cheek. "Why should I~?"

England rolled his eyes and pushed his foot away. "Because I'm sleeping with you tonight."

America raised an eyebrow. That sounded like worst "punishment" ever.

"And I'll make sure that my feet are touching yours _all night_."

Oh. _That_ kind of sleeping. "Your feet get too cold at night!" America exclaimed.

England smirked and stared pointedly at America's feet.

Sighing heavily, America dropped them to the floor, forcing himself into an awkward sitting position. "Jerk," he mumbled.

England seized his opportunity and quickly moved so that he was now stretched out, his head lying in America's lap. "Besides, this is a much better position, don't you think?"

America looked down at him, and couldn't help but smile. Cuddling and no cold feet. Not such a bad idea.

ooOOoo

_(Short and sweet. _

_Hey, ever considered wanting me to write for you? Well, I'm participating in an auction over at LJ where I'm selling my words for charity. Follow the link in my profile to my LJ for more information if you're interested!)_


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